That Demon: Playing With His Food
by Aservis Roturier
Summary: In which I attempt to see whether it's possible to add another maid to the Phantomhive menagerie without her name being Mary Sue. M for rough language, lewd behaviour, Sebastian actually behaving like the demon he is and some fairly citrusy situations. Might be triggering to some: tread warily.


That demon: playing with his food

Damnable demon.

Fucking inconvenient hell-spawn!

He was still blocking her, deliberately sealing her in, amusing himself beneath that poor excuse of 'protecting her'. Even knowing what she was and what it could mean for the little household he protected ... dominated, subjugated, carefully controlled.

Just look at him standing there, utterly confident in his strength and his ability to persuade and seduce, smugly grinning at everything and nothing. That gentle, solicitous face he shows the little earl—does he know, poor creature, what he's been tied to? Poor unlucky boy! That stunningly handsome mask of gentle amusement was so at odds with his true being, lurking just beneath that facade of his, famished, covetous, aching for chaos and blood, it made her feel a little sick... ugh, how she longed to claw that smug smirk from that too-perfect face. How she _hated_ him for lording it over her and showing his power against her like this. He must truly be, as he'd so proudly whispered to her, _one hell of a demon_, a titled noble, a true prince of his kind back in Tartarus, possessing power too terrifying and overwhelming to contemplate, even in this muted form of his.

How unlucky could she get, stumbling into such a creature? She'd run from a jackal right into the eager jaws of a giant panther, sleek, beautiful and deadly. And just like a big cat he seemed to enjoy batting his food around before devouring it. She'd been only seeking temporary a bolt hole, meaning no harm, threatening no one, not intending on exploiting these humans he hovered over at all. It was truly the furthest thing from her mind! She knew how to properly honour and return a kindness. But eaugh! he way he treated her...

It convinced her: she wasn't getting out of this alive.

No denizen of Hell granted favours without extracting a costly price, it was just the way things worked. She knew that. She wasn't of that realm, but she knew their ways well enough.

It chafed and infuriated her beyond endurance: she was not used to playing the submissive to anyone! It savagely stung her pride and he reveled in her feelings of humiliation, seeming to suck them down and savour them like a damned incubus. Had he not appointed himself protector of this ragtag collection of pathetic humans? So why was he now endangering them like this, trapping them in this house with an increasingly dangerous supernatural being? Did he merely want to see her lose control? Did he seek an excuse to kill her? Well. She could do better than that. She wasn't an infant to this life. She was damned proud of her self-control in such situations.

Though it did puzzle her...

She'd even asked him point-blank one early morning as she'd been preparing to sleep. She wouldn't have bothered even trying to ask, only he wouldn't leave, kept standing there leering at her readying herself for rest.

"Boredom," he'd answered, with a hungry glint in those flaming eyes, eyes shamelessly trained on her and raking her up and down as she stripped off her maid's livery, blackened with soot from another of the bone-headed cook's experiments with indoor explosives. He'd also generously given her a ricocheting sauce pot to the back of her head. If she'd been human she wouldn't still be around to worry about the infernal butler and his odd behaviour. Creeping into her comfortless, assigned sleeping cot, she found he'd followed her and reached out to examine the wound on her head.

"Shall I clean it for you?" He'd asked, creeping too near, swiping his tongue against the wound under her hair. She quickly gave him a 'thank you, no" already knowing the many side effects of that crystalline fluid poised on the tip of his all-too-eager tongue.

"No? My my," he sighed with mock sadness, "how very disappointing," he said, drawing even closer, his very proximity a threat. "He _is_ still out there you know...he seems to know you are in here as well and is taking up permanent residence in the forest just outside the property. Quite eager to see you dead, isn't he?" The bastard drew a gloved finger down from her collar bone to her belly, stopping somewhere near her navel. She drew back as best she could without angering him.

"What did you do, gobble up his woman?" She blushed and shook her head. He chuckled and slipped a gloved finger under the hem of her night gown. "Was it a boy then? You naughty minx..." She didn't want to get into who he had been to her and why he was so determined so she let him think what he wanted. "So shall I send the cook out to share his avante garde cooking techniques with him? Or perhaps we can get Finny to toss him into the Channel from here. I wonder if he could. "

"Whatever pleases _you_, demon. I am rather at your mercy here," she said, sliding off the bed to retrieve a hair brush, hoping to distract him with the reminder of his complete dominance.

"Yes,' he said, sharing a disturbing smile full of twisted promise. "Yes I know. Quite delightful, is it not?" he said as he left the room, apparently satisfied with only a little mental torment that night. She was relieved. Her throbbing head, care of Bard the so-called cook was quite enough torment for that day.

At least the butler had given her a windowless room to herself. It was miserably chilly, damp and musty and smelling of rodent urine, being just off the wine cellar. But it was fine: such conditions couldn't touch her. She was impervious to them now.

He certainly knew someone was hunting her. He'd even agreed to permit her a temporary hiding place there within the walls of this mansion-his territory, where he dominated and controlled everything, reigning over his tiny kingdom of Phantomhive.

_Ah well. There is no sense acting surprised_. She told herself as she eased her aching body on to the small cot. It was his nature, given what he was. What else would entertain a bored demon besides torment? And in a sense, she told herself, she guessed she'd invited it.

She had only stared at his silly, strutting, bantam of a master a fraction of a second too long— admittedly it was a famished, covetous look she'd given the boy—not that he'd seen it, but on the demon butler clearly had. And that was her mistake. She truly hadn't meant anything by it. Her aura and scent should've told him that. But he'd instantly pinned her flat to the office floor—right in front of the little runt, claiming he'd tripped. Such a lithe and powerful predator, she was certain he'd never once placed an unsteady step in all his unnatural life. And while lying there on top of her for the space of a heartbeat he'd_ dared_ to whisper sibilant, knife-edged threats into her ear, crushing her breast with one gloved hand, sliding up her thigh and groping her with the other. He'd cut into her ear lobe with those razor teeth of his as well— biting _her!_ The insufferable gall!

So ridiculously possessive: _I bet he prowls the bounds at night like a giant tom cat, pissing on every upright that presents itself, proclaiming his ownership of everything and everyone in this house._ Well. Everything and everyone but one: the boy would've said he owned the demon had anyone asked. It seemed the jury was still out on that particular relationship: he was a strong one, the little bantam...the demon's mark of possession was on him, but he was truly holding his own despite it. A rare, rich and powerful soul whom the demon was clearly obsessed with. She could easily understand why.

She watched the boy when he was nearby: she wasn't ashamed to admit it. The demon didn't let it happen that she got near the boy without his being there as well, but it did happen a time or two. What else did she have to engage her mind, imprisoned here as she was? At times she got the strong impression the obsequious behaviour and tender smiles the devil lavished on the boy earl were actually genuine—or else he was a hell of an actor on top of everything else. If the boy was truly the demon's weakness she ought to try and use him to bargain for release but...

The minute the thought crossed her mind the demon whipped around to face her, his eyes full of furious hellfire, fangs full bared—they were damned impressive too, even more lethal looking than her own.

It was clear: somehow he seemed to sense the very direction of her thoughts. Well, perhaps she could threaten the boy and gain a quicker death then, if nothing else. It seemed easy enough to goad the demon beyond control using thoughts of the boy and what she might enjoy doing to him.

So that's what she started doing beginning on her third week: she deliberately began using her imagination to come up with the most presumptuous thoughts toward the boy she could conjure. She fantasized about having his blood, all of it and not gently either, then moved to deliberately setting his soul free before the demon could intervene. Across the study the demon's face turned a surprising maroon, but he held himself back, probably not wanting to completely lose control in front of his master. But then she began dreaming the child into a bed while staring down his pet devil: she'd come to him naked and wanting, aching to be filled, ready to teach the boy every thing there was to know about a woman's body as well as his own, ready to drown him in pleasure.

That last seemed to do the trick. Perhaps the demon wanted to bed the boy himself, or perhaps he already had. Either way he marched over to her as she was cleaning out the hearth in the boy's office—he'd been shadowing her closely as usual. She was just rising from her knees with the ashes in one hand and a bucket of cleaning tools in the other when he swept up, grabbed her upper arm and marched her and her burdens out of the room.

Once in the relative privacy of a little used hallway leading to an abandoned wing of the mansion he flung her into a wall and trapped her there with his arms on either side. Not touching, but so close she could feel the heat coming off his body, his flaming eyes taking up her whole field of vision he whispered to her through clenched teeth:

"Are you really so eager to die, then?"

"It's inevitable, isn't it? You're going to kill me anyway. Why else pen me up like this? A swifter death is probably the wiser thing to try and goad you into," she told him honestly, letting her despair show in her eyes. "You're only going to bat me about like a caught mouse until you're bored with me. That's hardly anything to look forward to. Dead sooner rather than later saves me a lot of pain and grief."

"What makes you so sure any of that is true?" he whispered, now leaning against her, pinning her to the wall, body to body, his mouth right at her ear, moistening and reopening the cut he'd made earlier, his tongue collecting the blood surprisingly gently. "This is a first for me you know. Your blood is quite exotic to me and I find myself wanting more of it."

Perhaps, but surely you know that's hardly wise."

"No..." he pulled back a little "Quite so. But tell me where you got the idea I was going t—"

"Well aren't you?" Not that she expected him to tell her the pure truth. She was certain he was constitutionally incapable of that. She just didn't want him to think her a complete fool. "Otherwise why keep me here like this? Why envelop the whole house in a barrier I can't break through?"

"Perhaps ... perhaps I simply craved companionship. Perhaps I found you interesting. Is that so unlikely?" She laughed scornfully at that. "Or perhaps I simply wanted a partner with whom to indulge my lust." He punctuated this with a rough bite at the join between her skull and neck. Enough to bruise, but no blood this time. Which was good, as it was getting to where even the scent of her own blood was beginning to make her glaze over and ache with need.

"Or perhaps you just found the idea of turning the tables on, overpowering and playing predator to a vampire arousing. You certainly appear aroused. Painfully so, in fact."

"Noticed, did you."

"It would be difficult to miss. You appear to have given yourself an impressive physique," she smirked in return.

"Given a choice, who would choose to be hung like a door mouse?' He chuckled and began grinding against her quite determinedly. It became clear he wasn't lying about the lust, at least. "I can be rough with you," he gasped in her ear. "Do whatever I like," he sighed rubbing against her with increasing urgency. "You're strong, passionate and easy enough on the eyes. You can take my... attentions without breaking. I'd like not to have to hold back for a change. With you I wouldn't have to." He paused and shifted a little, enough he could look into her eyes.

"Oh, hello. I was wondering when you'd notice me. Well! What a romantic proposal. You must need to fight the women off with a cricket bat with that approach! So I'm to be your sex toy. And does it matter whether I want your attentions or are you just going to use me like a dog rubbing on a convenient leg?" She was excited by his attentions, unable to be anything else, between his poisoned kisses and the pheromones he generated it was nearly impossible not to be. And of course he knew that. He'd been unsurprised to scent her body's ready response, but he did seem a bit taken aback when he realised she was offended by the way he'd treated her. It was twice now he'd handled her so roughly and intimately without giving her any choice in it. She was a strong creature, but she knew it was useless to try and fight one like him. His strength and powers were orders of magnitude beyond hers. She really only had words with which to defend herself, so she did her best.

"I am no rapist," he rumbled angrily in her ear, "but neither are you resisting all that much." He said, pausing and giving her a moment to object further before crushing his mouth to hers and kissing her deeply, angrily at first, but then more gently and then almost sweetly as one would a real lover. It made her eyes fly open in surprise.

She wanted to tell him she wasn't resisting because she feared he was going kill her on the spot if she did. She was trying to escape his kiss long enough to tell him just that when something amazing happened.

He'd invaded her mouth angrily at first, but then, when he'd felt no resistance but also no answering passion, there was a small pause and then the nature of his kiss changed. He softened it and the movements of his tongue became more sensual, sliding over hers pleasantly, gently exploring her mouth.

Eventually his tongue found her sharp teeth and fangs. Instead of withdrawing in shock as a human would, or avoiding them as one would expect, he began deliberately raking his tongue hard against both hers as well as his own, making numerous welling lacerations and clean punctures, filling both their mouths with his blood.

Was it an apology? If so, it was a welcome one, one she could not help but respond to favourably.

It was extremely odd, tasting demonic blood. It had a strange, gamy tang to it, quite different to what she was accustomed to, but it was no less desirable for that. And oh, but she was _so_ very hungry after his having kept her penned up so cruelly for so long. She gratefully-and perhaps a little frenziedly-accepted, taking what he offered and drinking as deeply as he permitted. He continued kissing her, though now it was soft and affectionate-seeming, stroking her tongue with his and gently but insistently grinding his hidden sex against her, hips thrusting and rolling, almost frantically, his rhythm soon becoming erratic, like his breathing. He stopped abruptly and clutched her for a moment. Silently he broke off the kiss and breathing hard, laid his forehead against hers.

It was all so unexpected she didn't know how to react. He pushed himself away a little and began trying to lick up the few small smears of blood on his face that had escaped their mouths during the rough kiss. It was a futile exercise since his tongue was still deeply punctured in several places. All he accomplished was making more and bigger smears, so she stopped him and licked him clean. When she finished, and gave a thought to what she'd just done, the intimacy of it, and then to the entire experience, she became really uncomfortable and turned her face away.

He took one hand from the wall and curled his finger under the chin of her fleeing head, tipping her face up so he could see her eyes, and she could see his. "Still rather die?"he smirked, confident in his powers of seduction.

"Yes.' she replied. It was still in her mind what cats do when the mouse no longer entertains. "Being used only makes one painfully sad. They use you repeatedly, your contractors. You don't like it, do you?" She pushed away from him and off the wall then bent to retrieve the cleaning items she'd been carrying.

"I cannot say I mind it much. And if they're unpleasant about it I get my revenge in the end, so that's alright."

" Thank you for letting me drink from you. It was becoming really painful, being so close to people but unable to ..." awkwardness stole her words.

He straightened his clothing with a tug and a tuck, applying a smoothing hand to the wrinkles. "Yes, I know the feeling. I live it every day of my life," He said rather softly, then turned and glancing back momentarily, an unreadable expression on his face, he strode off to the servant's area, leaving her with the uncomfortable feeling she'd just been shown a small shred of mercy.

How surprising.


End file.
